“Do you understand what she’s saying?” I whispered to Kiki.
It sounds like a spell. A perilous one.Kiki stabbed her beak at my cheek when I leaned closer.Careful, Shiori! Gods, didn’t anyone teach you that it’s always the curious bird that gets eaten by the fox?She moaned,If only I’d been born to a more sensible sorceress.
“Since when are you so worried about your life-span?” I retorted. “No fox will want you—you’re made of paper.”
Yes, but if you die, I die. So of course I worry about you. You’d dive into a fire if it meant getting answers.
“I see. You only care about me out of self-interest.”
Naturally. A bird like me doesn’t form unnecessary attachments.
Ignoring her, I squinted at the Tears of Emuri’en. Within the pool, ribbons of crimson streamed out of my sash—like blood. As they wove through Raikama’s fingers, my stepmother’s voice changed. Venom dripped from it, her tone harsh and deep.
“Andahai,” she rasped.
Before my eyes, the ribbons in the water took on the shape of the crown prince, so lifelike that I flinched. I pursed my lips, suddenly missing my brothers—even Andahai. He could be dull and pigheaded, but if he ruled Kiata with half the care he gave us six siblings, our country would see its brightest days yet.
Then, as Raikama spoke their names, the rest of my brothers appeared one by one in the pool.
“Benkai.” Tall and graceful, the brother I admired the most. He was the most patient of us, but that didn’t mean he always listened.
“Reiji.” He rarely smiled, and he spoke without thinking, not caring if his words stung. But if Hasho could put up with him, he couldn’t be all bad.
The waters continued to swirl, and I tried to shake myself out of whatever enchantment Raikama must be casting, but she had not finished. There were still four children left.
“Yotan.” The brother I counted on to say my bowl was half-full, not half-empty. The brother who put cicada husks on my pillow to make me scream and spiked my tea with enough chili to make me cry, but who always made me laugh.
“Wandei.” The quiet one, who loved books more than people and would bury himself in thought if Yotan didn’t remind him to eat and sleep. His inventions were a sort of magic in themselves.
“Hasho.” My confidant. The gentlest, though he liked to tease me. Who even the birds and butterflies trusted.
Finally came my name.
“Shiori.”
I lurched out of my daze. The ribbons turned black, clouding the water in the pool. Serpents—seven of them, more shadow than flesh—surfaced and swam to Raikama.
Kiki shot back into my sleeve.Now, Shiori. We need to leave. Now!
I heard my bird’s warning, but I couldn’t move. I was transfixed by the snakes.
They slithered up my stepmother, climbing her back and draping themselves over her neck.
Shiori,they whispered.Die, Shiori!
I had seen and heard enough. I scooted back off the tree branch and was beginning to scuttle down when I saw my stepmother’s profile. Her eyes were yellow as a serpent’s, and in place of her smooth skin, scales glistened—as white as winter’s first snow.
I gasped and, missing a hold, fell off the tree with a hard thud.
Raikama spun.
“Who’s there?” she called, covering her heart with her hand. “Show yourself.”
Demons take me!I dove into the bushes. The leaves browned and wilted under my fingers, fear and nervousness making me unable to control my own magic.
I dared not even breathe, but my heart pulsed wildly in my chest. Eternal Courts, I prayed that it would not give me away.
“Show yourself!” Raikama said again, standing. I hardly recognized her, with her hair swirling about her in an inky mass and her tongue flicking out of her mouth, thin and forked. My stepmother was no sorceress; she was a monster!
